Tents

The forty passenger bus was moving along through the sunny desert when Danny, our informative, funny tour guide asked the bus driver to pull over and stop.  We were outside of Jerusalem, on the road from the Dead Sea.  Our guide directed our attention to the right side windows of the bus and he pointed out a cluster of rustic tents, the homes of nomadic desert Bedouin people.

 
These direct descendants of the Biblical patriarch, Abraham were living out their ancient customs and values in a modern world.  They were sheep, goat and camel herders.  Most of the family chores were done by the women. They moved their clans from place to place to access water and food sources for their flocks.  They lived in goat or camel hair cloth tents.  Each family unit had more than one tent--one for the men and one for the women and children. 

The outside of the desert dwellings we saw were unremarkable.  They were mostly rustic brown cloth patched together.  It seemed that if a section of the tent wore out, a new section of fabric was pieced in it's place.  Tent posts were staked into the ground with ropes tied to secure the tents.  Some of the tents had rocks piled along the edges of the tent flaps hold the cloth down against the wind and sand.  By all appearances everything was very functional;  nothing was very creative or elegant.

Then Danny started to tell us about the inside of the tents.  He told us that some of the Bedouins were quite wealthy.  Their cloth homes were furnished with beautiful woven rugs of rich jewel tones.  Trays were filled with food made with vibrant spices.  In the cooking section of the tents, coffee was readied for visitors. 

Our guide went on to share that the Bedouin people were known for their hospitality.  Anyone would be welcome in their tents, in fact they could stay for a few days with their hosts.   Poetry and music were also things these unhurried people engaged in with their families and guests.

As I thought of Bedouin life, I imagined that in those tents babies were born and young people were married.  I pictured laughter and time outs and grandmothers teaching grandchildren to cook or weave or dance--rich colorful life happening in a plain, unpretentious home.

In the New Testament book of 2 Corinthians, the author likens our earthy bodies to tents.  He points out the temporariness of our bodies and says that if we belong to God our earthly "tents" will someday give way to permanent "dwellings" in heaven. 

As I look at my "tent" I am discouraged by it's brokenness.  My illnesses have taken their toll on my body. Infections, surgeries, vitamin deficiencies, and weakness have all left their marks on me.   I'm having to remember that I can not define myself by my external body but rather by the abundant life--the joy of friends, the love of my husband, the treasure of kind words, the challenge of yet unreached potential--that is welling up inside of me and filling me.  Rich life in a very plain "tent."